


Fifteen cold hot pockets and two thousand bees

by SunSpell80



Series: 9-1-1 one-shots and drabbles [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, firefam - Freeform, the 118
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSpell80/pseuds/SunSpell80
Summary: “So wait. So in this scenario, which of us is the one who can play twelve different instru-”“Eddie.”“Eddie, definitely Eddie.”“And what, I’m supposed to be the one who trips over my shoelaces?”“Yes, definitely.”“Yup.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: 9-1-1 one-shots and drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883011
Comments: 7
Kudos: 187





	Fifteen cold hot pockets and two thousand bees

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this Tumblr post.](https://sigmalied.tumblr.com/post/138907407448/cookiexmilk-i-love-those-otps-that-are-like)
> 
> Originally posted on my [Tumblr.](https://disasterbis.tumblr.com/post/626653887788646400/fifteen-cold-hot-pockets)

“I feel like you and Eddie are the embodiment of this internet joke, about how in relationships there’s Person A, who can play twelve different instruments, got accepted into Harvard, and is organized, while Person B once ate fifteen cold hot pockets in a row, tripped over their shoelaces, and claims they can fight two thousand bees.”

Buck frowned, as he processed what Hen was saying. “So wait. So in this scenario, which of us is the one who can play twelve different instru-”

“Eddie.” Hen said immediately, with Chimney chiming in a few seconds later:

“Eddie, definitely Eddie.”

Now his frown deepened into an annoyed scowl. “And what, I’m supposed to be the one who trips over my shoelaces?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Yup.”

“You guys suck.” Buck whined, even though he had once in a single night eaten at least six cold hot pockets because he’d been drunk and the microwave had felt like too much work. But they didn’t need to know that. 

He saw Bobby coming up the balcony stairs and craned his neck back so that he could make eye contact with his captain. 

“Hey Bobby. If I told you that between me and Eddie, one of us played twelve instruments and was organized and one of us once ate fifteen frozen hot pockets-”

Bobby came to a halt, glancing in between Buck and the freezer.

“Is this your way of telling me that you consumed all of our emergency hot pocket rations?”

“No!” Buck protested, folding his arms and pouting as Hen and Chimney erupted into laughter on either side of him. “No! I can play instruments! I - I played the saxophone for a year and two months in elementary school.” 

That just made Hen and Chimney laugh harder. Buck shook his head at them as he stood up, flailing a bit in his haste to get away from them and their, cruel cruel mockery and -

Tripped. 

Nearly face-planted on the floor of the balcony, his arms wheeling in place as he fought to regain his balance.

Buck barely just managed to right himself before he fell, heaving a huge sigh of relief, before looking down to see what had caused him to fall.

Oh god damnit.

He glanced back over his shoulder to see Hen wheezing with mirth as she clutched Chimney’s shoulder for support.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Buck insisted as he tied up his shoelace.

“If you say so Buckaroo. If you say so.”

* * *

“Hen really said that?”

“Yes.” Buck huffed, turning his head so that he could look at Eddie, whose head was resting on Buck’s arm. 

“Well that’s totally inaccurate.”

“ _Thank_ you -”

“I mean I’d never go to Harvard, it’s an elitist trap. And I can only play the piano.”

“Wait Eddie that’s not what I -” Buck paused, bringing his other arm up to rub Eddie’s side. “You can play the piano? Why didn’t I know this?”

A subtle flush colored Eddie’s cheeks. “Not _well_ , I haven’t really played since I was a kid.”

“Right.” Buck agreed, knowing what that probably meant, given the impossibly high-standards Eddie always held himself to. “Do you ever miss it?”

Eddie looked bemused, like this wasn’t a question he’d ever really been asked. “My abuela has one at her house so I’ll sometimes play around on it when I’m over there - but yeah. I guess I do miss it.”

“Maybe next time we go over there I can hear you play?” Buck suggested.

Eddie smiled, reaching for Buck’s hand on his waist. “I really am rusty,” he warned, stitching their fingers together. “But yes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Buck squeezed his hand back, already thinking about how Eddie’s birthday was coming up and making plans to dive into some research about digital pianos.

They lay there in silence for a few more peaceful moments, enjoying the warmth of each other’s company as they drifted off to sleep.

That is, until Eddie broke the peace.

“Also, I could _definitely_ fight two thousand bees.”

“Oh yeah, me too!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have started a new series! This will be where I post any random 9-1-1 drabbles or one-shots I write that are unrelated to my "Things We Lost in the Fire" verse, so please subscribe to the _series_ if you're interested! (Not this fic, as I will be keeping this just one chapter in order to keep things organized).
> 
> (No offense to anyone who went to Harvard).


End file.
